All three men in the Mayor's office were grateful that the streets of Davenport had remained quiet. Perhaps almost ominously quiet, but they were grateful at this point for small favors.
"I'm still not sure why this Federal prosecutor…Kurt Angle…is coming here," Brodie frowned. "Have we received jurisdiction over these…murders?"
"I was called to where the bodies were found after they were identified," Malenko explained. "The county asked that I send a Coroner because we were closer than the State Coroner. The scene was secured, and the bodies transferred from the limo to a field tent just after I arrived."
"Isn't that unusual?" Cole asked.
Malenko shrugged. "The county and state officers were concerned that news helicopters would soon be flying over the scene. In fact, the county officers removed the limo's license plates in case any cameras in helicopters had the ability to focus in on them."
"Good thinking," Cole nodded with a half-smile.
"The Feds had showed up and were arguing with the county and state over jurisdiction," Malenko grunted. He looked at Brodie and continued, "Jurisdiction is determined by where the crime was committed. The Assistant Coroner determined that all three men were killed elsewhere and brought to where the limo was found. So, in my opinion, valuable time was wasted arguing about jurisdiction."
"Let me guess," Cole smirked. "The Feds wanted jurisdiction because they'll be in the hot seat for not knowing Vince McMahon was back in the country."
"I wouldn't argue against that guess," Malenko nodded. "I'd called out two of my homicide detectives because I knew we could be facing an open gang war in our streets and wanted them in the loop." He saw Brodie shudder and silently agreed. "When the Coroner said he was ready to transport, I told him to tell that to the other law enforcement agencies and sent my detectives back here. There was a…discussion with the Feds. I advised my concern for the safety of not only the citizens of Davenport but my officers as well and said I was leaving." He paused, then continued, "They weren't happy and said they outranked me. I told them the only person who outranked me was you, Mr. Mayor." He shrugged. "We all knew that's not exactly true, but I used it. The Assistant Coroner advised me later the Feds were abusive to him and his staff, and the State Police stepped in to stop it. As soon as I started by to the city, I cancelled all leaves except for emergencies until further notice."
"If you can give me the name of the State Police senior officer, I want to send my personal gratitude for his actions," Brodie requested. "That abuse is inexcusable."
"I ordered the Assistant Coroner to provide me with an official statement. I'll forward it to you," Malenko promised.
"So, how did a Federal prosecutor wind up getting involved?" Cole asked.
"On the way back to the city, I made a call to Steve Austin who works for a DOJ Federal prosecutor. He was my partner when we were both in the FBI and was working on cleaning up the mess in New York on the Ric Flair investigation. He was here to give us an update on the Friedman murder." Malenko slightly smiled. "The FBI screwed up that investigation and the prosecutor, Ms. Stevens, was neither happy nor complimentary about what occurred. She forwarded her…concerns to the Assistant Attorney General and the head of the FBI."
Cole covered his laugh with a cough then reached for his glass of water.
"Austin promised to call me back in twenty minutes, and he did it in eighteen," Malenko continued. "From what I understand, he called Ms. Stevens who called the Assistant AG. He called the FBI and said he was assigning a Federal Prosecutor to…and this is what Austin said was a direct quote…'to make sure this investigation wasn't screwed up like they screwed up the Flair investigation'."
The phone rang on Brodie's desk; and with an apologetic look at the other men, he quickly answered it. After a few seconds, he spoke, "Please send him in." As he hung up, he stood. "He's here…the prosecutor."
"Already?" Cole asked. "What did they do? Send him from DC on a supersonic jet or something?" He and Malenko also stood as Brodie walked to the office door.
"Mr. Mayor? I'm DOJ Prosecutor Kurt Angle."
Brodie shook Kurt's hand and ushered him into the office. "Mayor Brodie Lee. I'm pleased to meet you. This is Chief of Police Dean Malenko and District Attorney Adam Cole," Brodie introduced. "Would you like some coffee or water? Tea can be provided if you wish."
"Gentlemen, a pleasure," Kurt greeted as Brodie motioned to a chair next to Malenko. He held up a large travel mug. "Thanks, but I still have some coffee left."
"You got here pretty quickly," Cole commented.
Kurt's smile widened. "Only because I happened to be in Des Moines."
Cole's blue eyes widened. "You were the prosecutor in that Warden's trial…Michael Cole."
Kurt nodded. "We're wrapping up some loose ends and working on some new developments when I got a call from the Assistant AG asking me to come and provide you with some…support and assistance. As well as liaison with the FBI. Despite their complaining, unless they can prove those three men were not murdered in Davenport, your department, Chief Malenko, has the lead in this investigation." He saw the resigned look on Brodie's face and continued, "Unless, of course, all hell breaks loose between the Authority and Bloodline. The investigation will then take a back seat to public safety."
"How long can you keep the FBI off our backs?" Cole hopefully asked.
"I'm not sure. But the AG has designated me as the Federal representative on this case, and I outrank the local FBI agents. If the FBI starts pushing hard, it'll go to the Assistant AG. But the FBI's fiasco in New York hasn't won them any favors." Kurt's blue eyes twinkled. "The Assistant AG also made it perfectly clear that I would be answerable to and reporting to him. In addition, all press releases from the FBI were to be approved by him before being released to the press or public."
"Well, so far, everything's been quiet," Brodie admitted. "However, the news of those murders are bound to be reported soon; and we could…"
His office door quickly opened. "I'm sorry," Brodie's assistant apologized. "But you need to turn onto the Channel 11 News."
"Here we go," Cole muttered under his breath.
Brodie opened a desk drawer and pulled out a TV remote control. He pointed it at the TV sitting in a corner of the office and found Channel 11.
"…so far, the details are sketchy and we're trying to get comments from law enforcement. What we can confirm is that an abandoned limousine was found just outside Davenport city limits early this morning. All next-of-kin have been notified so we can tell you there were three dead men in the car. They have been identified as Vincent K. McMahon, Hunter H. Helmsley, and Robert Lashley. Vincent McMahon was a reputed mob boss who fled abroad to France. The government of France had refused extradition because Mr. McMahon had not been indicted. Hunter Helmsley was Vincent McMahon's son in law, and Robert Lashley was employed by Mr. Helmsley. We'll continue to follow this story."
"My office hasn't been asked for a comment," Brodie said as he turned off the television set.
Cole shrugged. "Neither has mine. The media's probably checking with their sources within our offices not to mention the county, state, and FBI. Any press release from my office would come from me."
"Any requests for comments are automatically directed to the Public Information Officer," Malenko said.
"What's your next move and how can I help?" Kurt asked.
"Just before I arrived here, I got notification of where Vince McMahon's son, Shane, is staying. Apparently, he's been quietly living here for several months and keeping mostly out of sight," Malenko advised. "Our next step would be to talk with him and then with Roman Reigns, alleged leader of the Bloodline." He sighed. "Since Shane McMahon's been notified, we should start with him."
Cole glanced at his watch and stood. "Let me know if you need any help from my office. I've got Court in a couple of hours."
Kurt wondered what the case was that put the satisfied smile on the Davenport DA's face.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"Thank you for seeing us, Mr. McMahon. We appreciate your time under these circumstances. Our condolences for your loss."
Once again, Styles had to admire his partner's ability to be so damned polite.
Shane nodded. "Thank you. And it's Shane. Mr. McMahon is…was my father. Please sit down. This is my attorney, Titus O'Neil. He's helping me with some…legalities regarding this situation. Do you know when the bodies of my father and brother-in-law will be released?"
"No, I don't," Cena answered. "But I'll see what I can find out and let you know."
Titus held out a business card. "Please advise me. I'm trying to take care of as many details as possible for Shane."
"Will you need any security for the funeral?" Cena asked as he took the card.
"Burial will be back on Long Island," Shane advised. "But thank you for the offer."
Kurt appreciatively looked around the spacious living room. "May I ask who was the decorator for this room? My wife has convinced me we need to move to a house closer to her work to cut down on the commute time."
Shane briefly smiled. "I don't know. Right now, I'm renting this house. But I plan to put in an offer to buy it. I could try and find out."
Kurt waved a hand. "That's okay. I'm probably jumping the gun on decorating ideas." He grinned. "It took her six months to decide on the house we're living in."
"Mr….Shane. We understood you were living in Japan until recently," Cena began.
Shane nodded. "For some years, actually. However, my children are getting older; and we're Americans. While we've enjoyed our time in Japan, I thought it was time to bring them home."
"Not to Long Island?" Styles asked, trying to mimic Cena's calm voice.
"We moved here from Long Island when I was, oh, about thirteen or fourteen," Shane explained. "For me, this was always more 'home' than the house on Long Island. I guess…I want to provide my children with as close to the experience that I had." He again briefly smiled. "I'm sure I see it as very idyllic and through a bit of rose-colored glasses, but I think the transition from Japan to the States will be easier for them this way."
"Did you know your father had returned from France?"
Titus put a hand on Shane's arm, but Shane shook his head at the attorney. "Yes. When my father learned I'd returned to Davenport, he explained he wanted to explore the idea of returning here. I told him I had no idea what that would entail from a legal standpoint." He stared out the window for a few seconds. "To be honest, he and my brother-in-law never really got along all that well. I had…personal concerns about them living in the same place. Mostly because it would drag me and my family into their personal drama and would put my sister in a very uncomfortable position. So, I told that to my father and ended the conversation."
Shane shifted in his chair. "I decided if he did return here, I'd go back to Long Island as I did not want to be drawn into any family drama and certainly didn't want my wife and children drawn into it as well. A few weeks went by, then my father called me and said he and Hunter were going to meet and discuss whatever issues they had. But, for legal reasons, he didn't want to be seen in Davenport and asked if they could meet here. Sort of neutral territory, I suppose. I agreed on three conditions. One was that there would be no confrontations. The second was that they would be here only a few hours. The last was that I would not be a part of that meeting."
"When did they arrive and leave?" Styles asked.
"My father arrived first, around 1pm," Shane recalled. "He said he came a little early because he wanted to talk about my children. He hadn't seen them since they were little more than toddlers. I showed him some pictures while we were waiting for Hunter who arrived sometime around 1:30pm. We spoke for a few minutes about his children and my sister, then I left them alone to talk. They were in this room, actually."
"How long did that last?" Cena inquired.
Shane chuckled. "Longer than I thought it would last," he admitted. "About a half-hour or so, Hunter sorta stormed out without saying a word to me. My father followed a few minutes later. He didn't look pleased, but told me he was happy to see me and asked if I'd send some pictures of my children to my mother. I said I would, and he left. I'm sorry I can't be more precise about the times, but I wasn't keeping an eye on my watch."
"They arrived and left in different cars?" Kurt casually asked.
Shane shrugged. "I guess so. I didn't see them arrive or leave."
"You did realize your father was wanted by law enforcement," Kurt pointed out.
"For questioning. Not arrest."
Kurt pleasantly nodded to Titus in agreement. "Nonetheless, you knew law enforcement would be looking for him. Why didn't you notify them?"
Shane heavily sighed. "Whatever is alleged against my father, at the end of the day, he was still my father. Whatever developed between him and law enforcement was between him and law enforcement. If he chose to return to this country, that was his decision. And he would have to deal with it."
"Is Shane in legal trouble?" Titus bluntly asked.
Kurt comfortably smiled. "Not that I'm aware of. At least from a Federal law enforcement perspective. At this point."
Titus glanced at his watch. "Are there any more questions, gentlemen? We have a call scheduled with a funeral home on Long Island."
The three men looked at each other, then Cena stood. "Not at this time. Thank you again for speaking with us. Again, our condolences on your loss."
"Thank you, Detective," Shane replied as he stood and shook Cena's hand.
Titus escorted them out, gently shutting the door of the house behind them.
"Interesting the way he kept referring to Vince as 'my father'," Cena said as they got into their car.
"He'd drawn some firm lines in the sand," Kurt replied as he fastened his seat belt. "Makes sense he'd exhibit that distance."
Styles glanced over his shoulder. "You're buying that?"
Kurt smiled as Cena started the car and drove down the long driveway. "No. Just playing Devil's Advocate."
"So, how does McMahon and Helmsley wind up in the same car if they left separately?" Cena mused. "If McMahon didn't want to be seen in Davenport, then they didn't meet at their hotel or casino."
Styles grunted in agreement. "We only have Shane McMahon's word that those two met at his house."
All three men were silent for a few moments.
"If Helmsley and McMahon did meet at the Authority's hotel, where does Shane come into the picture?" Cena glanced at his partner.
"He was at the meeting in the hotel," Styles said with a touch of excitement in his voice. "And he was the only one who walked out of that meeting alive. The other two were murdered there."
Kurt silently nodded from the backseat, all but ignored by the Davenport detectives.
"Which means Shane McMahon's been planning this for quite a while," Cena concluded. "He must have people already in place to prevent an internal war." He shook his head. "That's a stretch, partner. You know what the Chief says."
"Yeah, it's not what you can think but what you can prove," Styles grumbled.
"There's one thing that'll be proven fairly quickly although we won't be able to use it as proof that Shane McMahon murdered his father and Helmsley," Kurt pointed out.
"Which is?" Cena asked as Styles again looked over his shoulder at Kurt.
"We just met the new boss of the Authority."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"Court is now in session. Docket number CP-41-WG-0844." The Bailiff handed a folder to Judge Carlyle.
"Mr. Graves, I understand your client is changing his plea?"
Graves somberly nodded. "Guilty to eight counts of statutory rape and eight counts of possession of child pornography."
Carlyle stared at Gunn over his glasses. "Is this indeed your plea, Mr. Gunn?"
"Yes, Your Honor," Gunn quietly answered.
"Sentencing recommendation, Mr. Cole?"
Cole stood. "If the defendant truthfully allocates to each charge against him, six years per each count of statutory rape and 2.5 years per each count of the pornography charges for a total of 51 years. We will also agree to mandatory counseling for his sex addiction."
"Very well, Mr. Gunn, are you prepared to truthfully allocate in open court to these charges?" Carlyle asked.
Gunn took a deep breath. "Yes, Your Honor."
"Proceed, Mr. Cole."
With each allocation, Gunn seemed to sink further and further into himself; and his voice continued to waver Cole grimly listened. 'Bobby would've hated making this deal, but he would've agreed to keep those girls from having to testify. This is for you, Bobby. Love and miss you, brother.'
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"Roman Reigns. Detectives Cena and Styles and DOJ Prosecutor Kurt Angle."
Roman managed not to smile at Jericho's formal introductions at the door of the library. He'd anticipated Cena and Styles, but Angle was a surprise. He shook hands with all three men and invited them to sit and took a good look at Angle. What little Mox had told him about the Federal prosecutor had been somewhat positive. But it helped him to take his own stock of the man.
"Mr. Reigns, I'm sure you've heard the news regarding the deaths of Vincent McMahon and Hunter Helmsley," Cena began. "When was the last time you saw them?"
Roman half-smiled. "As far as Vince is concerned, it's been years. He was my father's contemporary, not mine. As for Hunter, probably a few months ago. We had a meeting in one of the high-stakes poker room in the casino. Hunter's choice, not mine."
"And the purpose of the meeting?" Cena prodded.
"It was to let Hunter know I planned to open my own hotel and casino," Roman explained. "I wanted him to understand I wasn't targeting his customers. I would be catering to a different demographic. The meeting lasted about ten minutes."
"What about Shane McMahon?" Styles demanded.
"Last time I saw him was at the end of my sophomore year of high school," Roman chuckled. "Shane was a senior and also quarterback and captain of the high school football team. I was a third string defensive tackle so we didn't really socialize except during team events. My mother sent me newspaper clippings about his engagement and wedding when I was in college in Georgia. I might be able to recognize him now." Roman shrugged. "Or maybe not."
"There was a third man found dead with McMahon and Helmsley…Robert Lashley. Have you ever met or spoken with him?" Angle quietly asked.
Roman slowly shook his head. "Sorry. Not to my knowledge."
"Do you know of anyone who might have wanted any of these men dead?" Cena asked.
Roman was tempted to ask if that included law enforcement. Instead, he shrugged. "I wouldn't have a clue. As I said, I haven't seen Vince for years; and I haven't seen Shane since high school. As for Hunter, I met him at the opening of the Casino. His wife introduced us. She and I were in high school together although we didn't have the same circle of friends."
Cena glanced at Styles who shrugged. "If you can think of anything that might be of help, we'd appreciate a call."
"Of course." Roman stood as a hint for the others to leave. "Oh, by the way, Mr. Angle. I know you were the lead prosecutor in the Michael Cole trial. Thank you for treating my brother with respect."
Angle's blue eyes twinkled. "Your brother is a very brave man to have agreed to testify. I honestly believe we would've gotten a guilty verdict even if Cole hadn't changed his plea."
Roman silently nodded and escorted the other three men out of the house.
"Well, there's another case where Moxley's got a connection," Styles grumbled under his breath.
Cena barely smiled, then looked at Angle as they reached the car. "What did you think?"
Angle smirked. "I think both Reigns and Shane McMahon are pretty evenly matched. I think it's going to come down to if they want to eliminate the other or live and let live."
"Are we taking bets?" Styles snarked as they got into the car.
"If Reigns and Helmsley had been going after each other, they kept it low key," Cena pointed out.
"And Shane McMahon may have internal problems on his hands," Angle pointed out. "I doubt he'd want to fight that and the Bloodline at the same time."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"How did it go?" Jericho asked as Roman walked back into his office.
Roman shrugged. "I'm not sure why Angle was here. As for Cena and Styles, pretty much the usual. I'll let Regal know. Maybe he can find out." He sat down and sighed. "Any word from Black?"
Jericho shook his head as he started to leave the office. "Not yet. Should be soon, though."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Barrett smiled as he stared out at the lights in Baltimore Harbor. He was getting more of a 'feel' for the city and saw more than a few opportunities. More than were in Davenport although the murders of McMahon and Helmsley could become a major story.
But the first real opportunity in Baltimore was about to happen. He'd had a few dates with the lovely Tiffany Stratton, a mid-level administrative assistant in the Baltimore Mayor's office. She'd set up a meeting with one of the Mayor's assistants who'd accidentally uncovered some sort of illegal transactions by the Mayor with some city contractors. The man was scared to go to the police so Tiffany had suggested a meeting with Barrett. He'd agreed to meet Barrett long after dark when this area of the Baltimore Harbor was deserted.
"Hey, man."
Barrett turned at the sound of a soft voice. Surprised, he saw a tall African-American who looked like a street thug. He automatically held his hands out to both sides of his body. "Look, whatever you want, I'll give it to you."
"Nice car."
"I'll toss you the keys."
The man shook his head. "Already got a sweet ride." His eyes narrowed. "Snazzy watch."
"It's yours."
"Nah. Don't need a watch."
"What do you want?" Barrett asked after a few seconds of silence.
"Nothing."
Barrett noticed the man's educated way of speaking. This was no ordinary street thug.
"You stepped on the wrong toes."
"And whose toes would that be?" Barrett asked with a slight smile.
"Roman Reigns' toes. You shouldn't have screwed with his brother and friend." The man quickly pulled out a silenced gun and fired.
Barrett's eyes widened in shock as he fell to the brick pavement. 'Reigns…I didn't…Moxley?...who?'
The man walked to stand over Barrett…and fired another bullet into his head. Satisfied Barrett was dead, he calmly replaced the gun in his pocket and walked away.
Five minutes later, he reached his car parked near several still-open bars. As he started the car, he activated his phone.
"Is it done?"
The driver grinned at the cold tone in Black's voice. "All done. He probably won't be found until early morning. I'm doing disposals now."
"You'll have a replacement and a bonus by tomorrow."
'Swerve' Strickland laughed when the call was disconnected. He was going to get a sweet sweet bonus. Maybe even enough to take his lady on that skiing vacation she'd been hinting about.